


Stars Die (so we can see them)

by Colerate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Extended Metaphors, Flashbacks, Gen, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, No Smut, Outer Space, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Reincarnation, Science Fiction, Young Tom Riddle, at the start anyway, hand holding, one (1) hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-14 05:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colerate/pseuds/Colerate
Summary: "You're a...magicuser?""You say that like it's a dirty word," Tom scoffed and picked up a stick, twiddling it in one hand. "And we're called wizards, not'magic users'"The Lord has been ruling the galaxies for as long as anyone can remember, expanding his reign from planet to planet, year by year, wielding an illegal energy known as "magic". He has yet to conquer Earth, the home planet of the Potters.The Potters had been onto him, so close to completing the necessary research to defeat the Lord and his Empire, when they were killed. Assassinated. Now Harry must finish what his parents started.





	Stars Die (so we can see them)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the 2019 tomarry big bang! This is my first big bang in general actually, so it was really cool to get involved. I'm kinda happy with it, banged it out towards the very beginning of the event and let it sit for a while before I looked through it. 
> 
> I was super obsessed with sci-fi when I wrote this. It shows.

Mum had always said that the stars were beautiful. 

Of course, she was right. Stars are beautiful. The way they burn bright, twinkling from afar and dotting the sky like specks of glitter. Up close, well, that was down to personal opinion. When cruising just outside of a solar flare's reach like they were now, stars could be quite fearsome. The sheer heat that still managed to permeate the thick metal of the ship told cautionary tales, warnings not to fly too close to the flame lest your wax wings melt and your flesh and bone become one. Nevertheless, it was a sight to behold, beautiful in a dangerous way that drew in victims with a different sort of siren's song. 

But there was a difference between the beauty that captivated all and the beauty that had captivated his mum. Stars, mum had said, are not eternal. 

“We’re getting close now, like half an hour maybe?” Ron said from the navigator’s chair, paying no mind to the mass of heat and light visible through the glass panes to the right, keeping his focus entirely on what lay ahead. Harry gave the star one last glance before making his way over to stand next to him. 

“Twenty-two DCs you mean,” Hermione corrected, steps echoing as she walked over from the right corridor before coming to a stop on Ron’s other side so that they both bracketed the high backed chair. He could tell she’d already changed into her expedition gear, the reinforced soles always made footsteps just that extra bit louder. 

“Yeah, yeah, _I_ say we should keep to our ways but the intergalactic measurements are more effective or whatever,” Ron said with a dismissive wave, ignoring Hermione’s muttered “efficient” and gesturing to the map. “Point is, we’re seriously close now.” 

They were, Harry realised and his eyes widened. The 3D render of their ship was much closer to the red destination mark than it had been when he last checked. Ron looked over his shoulder at them. “Do you reckon it’s really there?” He hastily continued when met with two twin frowns. “I mean, sure, it’s supposed to be there, all the Potters' work says it will be, just… we’re finally here, we’ve got the answer and I… it just doesn’t feel real. Too easy, you know?” 

Yeah, it did feel too easy. After everything else, way too easy. When compared to the near-death experience that was finding the locket on planet Elmabaza… this seemed a little too perfect. “We just gotta take it as it is,” Harry surmised, it wasn’t like they could just turn back anyhow. 

“Besides, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve looked over the Potter research, it has to be here,” Hermione grinned in a way that was more for their benefit than her own. Harry could see it in the way her eyes wavered in their enthusiasm. She probably didn’t completely believe it herself, no matter how illogical that may be from her perspective. 

The minutes ticked by like the hands of a clock designed to measure each hour with a clumsy stroke. Now that they were so close to being done with waiting, it seemed they'd have to wait even longer. Logically, Hermione pointed out, time was running exactly as it had been for the entire trip since they'd kept to the same travel settings throughout. But it still felt longer than it should have been. 

The star blinked out of sight, far behind them, and darkness met their observation deck. According to the readings that Ron had brought up, there was a planet directly in front of them. Yet Harry's instincts were screaming at him to turn around. The black expanse looked too much like a black hole for his liking. From the way she tightened her grip on the back of Ron's chair, Hermione seemed to be feeling the same. 

"Gonna breach the atmosphere soon, so strap in," Ron said, focusing solely on the digital rendering of the supposed planet and entirely ignoring the nothingness ahead. He flicked a few switches and the telltale humming of the ship preparing for breach vibrated from the back of the room. Harry did as he was told, taking his place on the captain's chair while Hermione took to the maintenance and administration station. 

"Breaching in three..." Ron began, finally looking away from the map and up at what lay ahead. Harry couldn't see his face but reckoned he knew his best friend well enough to predict that he wasn't wearing an overly happy expression. 

"... Two..." 

Turbulence shook the ship and Hermione dialled up the stabiliser. For a second, Harry thought he saw something green flash in the darkness. But when he blinked, he was met by the same empty abyss from before. 

"... One" 

A massive jolt took hold of the ship, followed by some of the heaviest turbulence Harry had ever experienced during intergalactic travel in his life, sending his head whacking into the back of his chair, his hands clutching onto the armrests for dear life. Red flooded into his vision and then vanished as soon as it had appeared. And then flashed again. And again. He distantly noted that the alarms were blaring, just about audible over the sheer wreckage the quaking was making in the storage rooms just behind them. 

"Hermione, turn up the stabiliser!" Harry shouted, the 't' on 'turn' catching as his head was whipped to the side and back again. His teeth smashed themselves together over every syllable, butchering his words with each crash and jump of the ship. 

"It's at maximum capacity!" Hermione shouted back, her words just as mashed up and muffled as his.

"Ten seconds until landing!" Ron practically screamed to be heard above the cacophony of noise, his head braced back against his chair, chin up and neck straining. 

"Nine! Eight! Seven!"

Another flash of green, this time Harry was sure he didn't imagine it. It flashed across the darkness ahead, like lightning amidst the clouds, yet illuminated nothing. 

"Six! Five! Four!"

It flashed again. And again. He missed it a couple of times, either the red of the alarm system drowning it out or his head was whipped back or his eyes were forced closed for a second. But it was there, he could feel it crackling just ahead. A pure energy that was forebodingly familiar in just the right way to tell him that what they were searching for was indeed just ahead. 

"Three! Two! One!"

"Landing!" They came to an abrupt halt, all three of their heads flying forwards and then violently backwards in unison. He could tell immediately that they were all going to have the worst case of whiplash they'd ever experienced before. Once his vision became clear again, losing the foggy quality he hadn't even noticed during the chaos, he found that there was no longer just empty space ahead. 

If it weren't for the ship's searchlights, he wouldn't have been able to discern the structures from their black backdrop, but there was an obstructed skyline. A craggy obsidian rock scape greeted their eyes, comprised of steep drops and mountainous peaks that scraped at the sky. Cracks and crevices riddled the sheer surface in a way that would normally suggest instability yet Ron's readings said that everything was structurally sound. No human had ever set foot on this planet in a very long time, he could feel it. 

Just as he was about to get ready to move on, a brilliant white pinprick rose from the barely visible horizon, slowly gaining in size as it revealed itself. A star, casting harsh light across the landscape, highlighting the sharp edges of each and every peak and dip. A supernova, Harry guessed from the distance and how much light it emitted. 

Hermione dialled down the stabiliser and they could move once more. He hadn't realised how restrictive it had become once the outside forces had stopped acting against it, too captivated by the sight ahead. 

"Trust You-Know-Who to find a planet that could match his personality," Ron sniggered, already up from his seat and fitting his gear. Soon he was matching with Hermione, clad in a black that rivalled the planet they had landed on and accented in red and gold with a striking wedge of colour from the neck to the stomach. The edges of each accent and detail were lined in gold, while the centres pulsed between deep red and almost oranges, showcasing the energy that ran through the suits in a way that was admittedly more flashy than practical. The final piece was the hood, pointed and angled backwards in a way that hung a little limp. Once pulled up, that same scale of reds formed a protective visor not too dissimilar to the old clunky astronaut helmet screens that could be found in museums. 

Harry took his own set from behind his chair while Ron prepped the airlock and Hermione surveyed the planet from her station. The suit slid on like a second skin, smoothing out the clothes underneath and fixing itself upon him in no time at all. He had enough time to do a little observation of the havoc the turbulence had caused in the storage rooms before Hermione announced that the atmosphere wasn't breathable and to keep visors up at all times. 

The three of them paused in the airlock before taking the final step outside. Although he couldn't see their faces through the red-orange of their visors, he knew his friends were smiling back at him in reassurance, just like he was to them. "Just one last Horcrux... then it'll all be over," he said and his two companions nodded. No other words were necessary, it just needed to be done. 

With a hiss, the airlock opened and the higher gravity of the planet took effect, pushing down on them and making everything just that extra bit heavier. Despite its glossy appearance, the ground was not that slippery and his feet found purchase quite easily. Hermione made a surprised 'hm' sound before retrieving the triangulator from her thigh. A dull beeping sound rang through the air, the silence between each beat long enough to tell them that they weren't on top of the Horcrux but short enough to let them know that they were in the right area. She began to walk in a direction in an attempt to figure out which way to go through the process of elimination. 

Once Hermione was far enough away so that their dual beeping wouldn't get confusing, Ron took out his own triangulator and headed in a separate direction with a "Good luck, mate". Harry smiled, waited for Ron to leave his range, and took his own triangulator out and walked away. 

It was a handy device, something which fitted snuggly in the palm of his black-clad hand where the orange glow of the red centre slipped around the edges and the gold appeared to frame the object. There was no display outside of a rudimentary green blip that drifted in and out of existence in time with the beeps. 

He walked for some time, noting a minor increase in the frequency of beeping, making an effort to watch his feet after he caught his foot in one sneaky crevice. He soon fell into an almost trance-like state, listening to the rhythmic echoes of his footsteps and the beeping of the device. He reckoned he was travelling in a direction that was ever so slightly angled towards the goal. 

Every now and again, an update would pop up on his visor from the other two, Ron reporting something similar to Harry and Hermione being met with no luck at all and changing direction. He was just about to suggest to Ron that they set course so that the two of their paths would intersect when he was distracted by a glimpse of colour.

Breathing stilled, he stopped in his tracks, hand lowering the device from where it had been parallel with his chest. He'd reached a mostly open space, so there wasn't anything to hide behind and he'd rather not power down the suit in an environment that would have him dying of asphyxiation or poisoning depending on which was faster acting. If something was out there, it had seen him, but he was better off not making any sudden movements either way. 

He risked a slow turning of his head, then body. He'd been heading towards the supernova and what he'd been mentally dubbing 'East' in his head despite that particular brand of directional terminology being outdated. Slowly, he turned until he'd made a complete 180. Then he stopped.

A figure stood – floated – tall and looming like a dementor from the planetary prison Azkaban and just as chilling in presence. But the cloak it donned was not tatted nor greying, instead flowing like expensive silk and just as dark as the sky behind it. The only reason Harry could see it was because of the way the combined light from the supernova and glow from his suit rolled off of its surface with each ripple, swaying to a breeze that none of the readings from the ship had picked up on. And then there was the face... shrouded in shadows that faded at the chin, revealing a paperwhite complexion. But the most captivating feature was the red slits for eyes that penetrated the darkness of the hood. 

Frozen in his surprise, he hadn't gone for the gun attached his hip or the stunner on his leg. Instead, he watched as the figure drew closer and closer until he could smell the death on his breath and feel the cold radiate from his body. Until a bony finger was rested on his shoulder, cracked nail digging into the suit and somehow he could feel it upon his skin as though he was exposed. He barely breathed, air taken from him, as he was pushed backwards into a canyon that hadn't been there before. 

Then, nothing.

* * *

_"Look up, Harry," Mum pointed above but kept her eyes on him. He could feel the grass between his fingertips as they clenched and unclenched on the ground. The Hill had always been his favourite spot, all muddy and yellow and crunchy. He could remember when they first came here and mum had said that once The Hill would have been a vibrant green, a little wet and very much alive. It sounded odd to Harry, especially at five years old. He'd never known grass to be bright green, maybe a swampy colour like the marsh of the back garden. But not bright green. _

_Seeing that he wasn't looking up, instead paying attention to the ground, she gently took his chin with her hand and guided it towards the sky. "Over there, in the distance, do you see that little spot of white?" His gaze followed the length of her arm until it reached where she was pointing. For a moment, all he could see was the same old smog he'd always known, but then he saw it. A little pinprick of light shining through._

_"That's a star, beautiful, isn't it?" Mum turned her head back to him but he didn't look away from the star just yet. Even though mum and dad often talked about stars and other things they saw off-planet, he'd never seen one outside of projections. _

_"It's dying, that's why we can see it" _

* * *

Something cold was pressed against his cheek, wet in a way that wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, it was soothing. Soothing for the giant welt he no doubt had gracing his face given the throbbing that was slowly filtering in as he gained consciousness. Followed by various other aches and pains riddling his body. He tried to get up but something pushed him back down. 

"Shh, shh, don't move, not just yet," a calming voice said, deep and measured. He slowly cranked open an eye, the other he found was refusing to co-operate, and was met by an obsidian black ceiling. Flickering white light, just like the star outside, bounced off the cracked edges and stalactites, catching in the dripping liquid falling from the latter. He turned his head to the left, his ear coming into contact some sort of cloth, and the owner of the voice was revealed. 

A young man, mid-twenties at most, with short brown wavy hair and a pale handsome face was knelt by his side, hand shifting from Harry's chest once he realised he was no longer attempting to rise. His clothing was... odd, like he'd walked into a museum, saw a pre-empire mannequin in his size and stole it. Or he'd been inspired, though Harry had only ever seen cheap party costumes in that style and his blazer looked expensive. 

"How are you feeling?" He smiled with closed lips and Harry clocked that the man was breathing fine. Then he clocked that he himself was also breathing fine yet his hood was down and the visor was not in place. 

"Why am I not choking?" He blurted out, mind not quite running at the same speed as his vocal cords. Catching up with what he'd said, he wanted to facepalm and the way the stranger's lips twitched only aided his mortification. He'd never been good with words after waking up from a knockout, the worst had been when he'd had the sudden inspiration to break up with Ginny when she was the first thing he saw after being done in during a flight simulation. Fortunately, Ginny had already dumped him before the test, he'd just temporarily forgotten. She'd teased him relentlessly for that, claiming he couldn't deal with being the dump_ee_ and not the dump_er_. 

"I put up a field of sorts, down here the air is perfectly breathable as long as you don't venture too far down the tunnels," the man explained with an airy tone, as though oxygenating an environment was as easy as commanding a cargo ship on autopilot. 

A couple of seconds passed before Harry said "Who are you?", feeling a little idiotic for not asking sooner. He'd woken up in an unknown location beside an unknown man for the Milky Way's sake. 

"Well, my name is Tom but I'd hazard a guess and say that what you really want to know is what's going on and how I fit into all of this," he gestured vaguely about the room and Harry took note of the strange floating orbs of light dotted along the walls. "I fell, just like you, a couple of days ago and I'm almost certain that we're in the exact same situation, minus the helping hand on my part," he chuckled, a lilting sound almost like a song. 

"... What is this situation, exactly?" Tom had said a lot but also almost nothing at all. Just how similar could they be? Harry had been on an expedition to complete the work his parents had died for, searching for a means to end the tyranny of the Lord. Not many others could lay claim to the same story outside of his two best friends. 

Tom seemed to focus more intently on Harry, his brown eyes alight with something that he couldn't pin down. It could be fascination or inspiration just as easily as it could be mischievousness or even something a little darker. "There's something powerful on this planet, something to end the war once and for all"

"Something evil," Harry nodded absently, just now noticing how their words echoed. The only sound he could hear was that which they made themselves and the drip drip dripping from the largest stalactite at the centre of the room. "... But how do you know about that?"

"I've been searching for it for a long time, tracking it down using its own means of creation..." Tom let the words hang in the air while Harry's eyebrows came together. He couldn't mean...

"You're a... _magic_ user?" he whispered, not daring to utter the m-word at speaking level, lest he incurs some sort of ancient God's wrath or something else equally terrifying – like the law enforcement. _It_ was illegal and not to mention the energy which those he was fighting against used. 

"You say that like it's a dirty word," Tom scoffed and picked up a stick, twiddling it in one hand. "And we're called wizards, not _'magic users'_," he mocked Harry's voice. 

"But that's... that's evil," Harry said and tried to push himself up from the ground once more, he needed to be as far away from this man as possible. There was no way there was a _magic user_ on _Voldemort's hidden planet_ who wasn't on the Lord's side. His hands scrabbled at the ground, managing to push himself until his back connected with the wall behind, jagged rock painfully pushing up against the suit. He patted himself down for his gun or stunner or anything and came up empty. Of course, Tom had taken it! He'd known this was coming!

"Don't be an idiot," Tom said instead of striking him with evil energies. He didn't move at all, happy to be knelt by the rug Harry was now only half on, and keeping his attention to the stick in his hand. He met Harry's wild eyes and sighed in a put-upon manner and pointed the stick in his direction. "_Episkey_," He uttered quietly and moved the stick in a small circle. 

There was no stream of light or flash like he'd seen in battlefield projections or heard of in the war stories grandad Flea liked to tell. Instead, his swollen eye became very hot and then very cold. He blinked and he could see from both eyes again. 

"What's so bad about that?" Tom asked with a smug look. "The light we're using to see, the oxygen filling your lungs, the warmth keeping you from freezing to death – it's all magic which I put in place," he continued, gesturing to each item on his list as he spoke. "Please do tell me how any of that can possibly be evil"

That didn't... that didn't align with anything Harry had been taught about... that energy. It was an evil force designed to harm and kill, wielded by those who loved nothing else more. Used by the kind of evil person that lead a war that had lasted generations, the only reason for their being any oppositional forces at all due to how vast the universe is and how long it would take to conquer. Time passed and yet there was always talk of the Lord, tales told that anyone who had seen him had met their end within the hour. _'Dead men tell no tales, Harry!'_ Flea would always lecture him when his mind wandered to the war. _'Otherwise Lily and James would be right here now, telling us exactly where to find him'_

"I've never heard of... it not being used to hurt people," Harry explained and relaxed a fraction, enough to lean forward so that the wall was no longer digging into his back. 

"Propaganda of the fear mongerer," Tom said and slipped his stick into his blazer pocket. "Anyway, how can you expect to fight a war and win when magic is being used by the opposition? It's far superior to your technology," his eyes ran down Harry's suit and his mouth twisted with disdain. 

"So you're fighting fire with fire?" Harry asked. Tom smiled with his lips closed yet again and nodded.

"We'll talk more later, for now, you need to rest, Harry," Tom's smile smoothed back out into a surprisingly cold neutral line.

Everything went dark.

* * *

_"I'm tireeeed, my legs huuuuurt," Ron groaned, just about four feet tall and would stay that way until his first real growth spurt hit. He dragged his legs and swung his arms like climbing The Hill was the most arduous trial he'd ever faced. And Harry knew that to be false, they were already prepping for flight school at seven years old._

_"Come on!" Harry called back to him, a few metres ahead with a spring in his step. Mum and Dad were on another long haul mission, a really important one, leaving Harry with no one to catalogue the stars with. Well, there was grandad Flea, but he didn't care for that sort of thing. So he'd taken Ron instead. "We're almost there!"_

_It took longer than it would normally, but they reached the peak and sat by the lone crooked Oaktree. It was late and the sky was dark and they might not have told Mrs. Weasley just how long they would be out for but it had to be done. A star was burning out so that they could _see_ it. _

_"That really hurted," Ron grumbled. He'd fallen at one point and scraped his knee. "Like really really" _

_Harry patted Ron's good knee and scooted closer, the two of them hugging their legs as they looked up at the moody sky above. "Look!" He said in a hushed tone, watching as Ron followed his pointing hand as he had once followed his mum's until his gaze landed on the star. _

_Ron frowned and then his eyes went wide. "Is it a hole? Is it a hole in the sky?" _

_"No, it's a dying star," Harry said proudly, grinning. But then Ron's expression of wonder dropped into confusion and Harry's grin faltered. _

_"Why is it dying?" He asked, shifting closer to Harry, something a little fearful about his face. Harry bit his lip but carried on watching the sky. _

_"So we can see it"_

* * *

He awoke again to the same scene from before, except without the aches and pains and without Tom by his side. He felt well-rested in a sleepy sort of way like he'd need a good twenty minutes to stretch out his muscles. It was the sort of after-effect he experienced from a couple of hours in the medicinal pods in the healing wing at flight school. Having graduated roughly five Earthen years ago (he wasn't the best at converting standard time into the measurements used by Earth despite all of the lessons), he hadn't seen a good synthetically induced sleep for some time. He even gave a good long yawn. 

Stretching his legs, he stood up and surveyed the room in more detail. There wasn't much, but it was somewhat lived in. A few cloths similar to what he had slept on were scattered around like rugs, a few acting like placemats in front of tunnel entrances. A couple of wooden boxes lay here and there too. The general theme of the place seemed to be pre-empire, these materials just weren't used anymore. 

Tom walked in from the tunnel on the right and Harry realised he was a couple of inches taller than himself and he was slender but not in a way that would suggest fragility. The two were quite different, opposites even. Where Tom's hair appeared to be neatly arranged just so, Harry's was a mess that he didn't dare brave with a hairbrush. Tom was tall and slender, Harry was average height (he'd checked! Perfectly average, despite what Ginny may say and joke about) and had a stockier build from the training during his schooling years and what his later expeditions had demanded of him. Even their fashion was so far removed, Harry in a top of the range as of the last cycle orange ranger suit while Tom was clad in vintage. The only features they shared were their colour schemes, the base being black. Even then, Harry bolstered orange and Tom had hints of green. War really brought all sorts of different people together, it would seem.

"Good morning," Tom said, carrying two bowls of something that looked bland and gloopy. Not that Harry could complain, he only had a few emergency pastes and they'd only last him a couple of days. Who knew when he'd be reunited with Hermione and Ron... hopefully soon. Hell, they were probably terrified for him. Instinctively, he reached for his communicator but found it had no signal. Odd, the few times that had happened before were during meteor showers. "It's porridge, hope you don't mind the taste, I wasn't really thinking about luxury when packing for emergencies"

They set themselves down around one crate, an orb of light overhead. Harry was still wary of the energy being used around him, but so far he hadn't been harmed. It reminded him of the supernova above ground anyway, which was a comforting thought. 

"While this is nice and all, Tom," Harry began once he'd finished his bowl. "I need to get back to my teammates and find what we're searching for," he wasn't sure how to go about that with his communicator out of action but perhaps if he wandered he'd get back in range.

"Oh yes, I was just about to bring that up actually – I did say I was here for the same reason," Tom retrieved his stick from his pocket and with a flick that made Harry flinch, the bowls slowly floated away. "I know where it is, I'm just having trouble getting to it"

"You know where it is?" Harry repeated. This was it. The final rung of the ladder. They were _so_ close. 

"Yes, I do, I've seen it, but that awful wraith keeps pushing me back here," Tom sighed and idly picked at his nails. "There's a sort of set of trials and each time the participant fails, the wraith pushes them back, I believe whoever placed the weapon here wanted to make sure that whoever took it was worthy" 

"It's a weapon?" Harry had been under the impression it was another one of Voldemort's cursed collection, the final piece to the puzzle. Of course, the files had never specified and really, it made sense now, the final piece was supposed to be able to destroy the others. 

"Yes, an enchanted sword imbued with the venom of an ancient creature known as a basilisk," Tom explained, eyes meeting Harry's with that same intensity from yesterday. "A wound the size of a simple paper cut could slay even the mightiest beast and destroy the most powerful relic" Harry wasn't sure what a 'paper cut' was but he understood the gist of the statement. 

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Harry stood. "Take me to the trials, I'm sure we can figure this out together"

"Don't be so hasty, you don't know anything about what we're going to face, allow me to explain first" 

According to Tom, there were five trials that famed witches and wizards had put in place a long time ago. The first was a three-headed hell hound known as a Cerberus, said to have once been the devil's personal lap dog. Fluffy was its name, ironically, and it was once the pet of a half-giant named Hagrid, something which Tom sneered at when he said it. 

"Not a fan of Hagrid?" Harry teased a little, testing the waters, and Tom rolled his eyes. 

"I'm not a fan of half breeds in general"

The second was a living barrier formed by the aptly named 'devil's snare' which choked its victims harder with each thrash and struggle. The key was to relax the body and slip through the vines. The woman behind the use of such a fearsome plant had been a herbologist named Pomona. 

"... Well she sounds nice" 

"Oh yes, she was known for her kindness"

The trials that followed were just as equally ingenuitive and magic ridden as the two that came before them. Charmed flying keys from a half-goblin named Filius, a sentient chess match devised by a stern woman named Minerva, a mystery potion guessing game (for the uneducated, Tom had said, for he was an expert in potions – especially potions lost to the passage of time) produced by the Potions Master Severus and finally, a mirror. 

"A mirror?" Harry asked, confusion evident in his features. Tom pursed his lips. 

"Yes, a mirror, there could be more trials, I wouldn't know, I've yet to get past the mirror" Tom huffed, annoyed. Harry got the impression that he wasn't used to failing.

"So, how do you know all this stuff, anyway?" Harry asked in an attempt to distract Tom from what was maybe a bit of a delicate subject. It wouldn't do to offend the handsome stranger who'd nursed him back to health. 

"I'll be back in a moment," Tom said in lieu of an explanation, heading down one of the tunnels and then returning with a tome in hand. Harry hadn't laid eyes on a physical book outside of projections or museums before which seemed to be the trend when it came to Tom and his possessions. He carefully placed it atop the crate and flicked through the yellow pages. Landing on the desired page, he turned the book around and came over to Harry's side. The crate wasn't large so there wasn't much room to crowd around a book and Harry was hyper-aware of just how close Tom was as he pointed to the header. He expected him to be warmer but was pleasantly surprised by how cool he actually was.

"Here, _'The Last Defenders'_," Tom read the title aloud and moved onto the text. "_A mere year after the Death of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the remaining professors of Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry shed their titles as teachers to become warriors, the last line of defence between the Dark Lord and the students they protected._ It's a little hyperbolic but all of Skeeter's works are, the author that is, she started out as a tabloid journalist after all" 

He continued to read but Harry's attention was snatched by the portraits of each defender and how they _moved_. At first, he dismissed it as something he'd seen before, yet the printed videos he was accustomed to were looped. These portraits didn't follow a script, they followed Tom's (manicured – had this man ever done a physical thing with his hands in his life? Or did he use _magic_ for everything?) finger as it drifted from word to word in time with his baritone voice and interacted with each other in ways that weren't repeated in exact detail as he'd expect from a printed video. 

"_... And they chanted one final spell, yet all was for nought, the students could not be found but You-Know-Who reigned supreme.'_" Tom finished with a relish.

"Wait, the students just disappeared?" That didn't sound right. Where did they go? Why did the defenders do that? Surely there was a reason. 

"That's what they say," Tom answered with a slight shrug, shelving the topic metaphorically and then the book literally when he went back down the tunnel. 

When Tom returned, Harry decided it was time they prepared for the trials. "I'll need some form of self-defence, where did you put my gun and stunner?"

"Under the other rug, although they won't do much against a magical foe," Tom waved his hand in the direction of the rug while he flicked his stick. Two dainty looking china cups floated on over from one of the tunnels. He slipped a vial from his pocket and emptied the contents into one of them. 

"You don't know that," Harry protested but Tom didn't rise to the challenge, instead holding out the dosed cup of tea. "You put something in that"

"That I did," Tom nodded as though Harry was an idiot. Now, Harry may not have graduated top in his class when it came to mechanics, but that didn't mean he was stupid. He was the designated captain of his expeditions for a reason, just like his Dad had been. 

"Are you trying to poison me?" He asked even as he took the cup, albeit slowly while giving it a dubious look. 

"It's an immune system boost, just because the air is clean it doesn't mean that any other foreign contaminants aren't going to make you ill. Besides, I went to all that trouble of fixing you up and making breakfast; it'd be counterproductive to kill you now," Harry supposed that checked out and gave the cup one last look of scrutiny before gulping it down in one. 

It didn't taste wrong, though he barely let it linger on his tongue so he supposed he couldn't know. But there was something about it, something that reminded him of the Turkish Delights his mum had loved. "Is there rose in this?"

"Yes," Tom answered simply, drinking his own tea. Harry nodded and went to find his weapons.

He peeled back the rug and did indeed find his gun and stunner and wasted no time in attaching them back to their respective places on his suit. Magnetism kept them in place so he could put them anywhere really but he'd gotten into the habit of having them in the same place each time he put on the suit.

"So, when do we get going?" He asked, patting the stunner to make sure the connection between suit and device was stable. He was ready, but Tom made no move to get up from where he'd taken to sitting on the crate, legs crossed, one arm behind him for support and pinky gently swinging the now empty teacup by the small handle. He made for quite the silhouette.

"Since you're at such a disadvantage, I ought to at least try to teach you a little magic," he said and walked over to him and held the stick in the space between their chests. "It doesn't work for everyone, but..." He trailed off. 

Harry was about to tell him exactly what he thought about that, Tom may be willing to stoop to the level of the enemy and maybe the energy did have some none malicious practices, but it was still evil and Harry wouldn't be partaking in anything of the sort. Except, when he went to push the stick away, something surged through his fingers where they came into contact with it. In a reflexive action, like he'd been caught on an electrical wire, his hand closed around the stick and he could _feel_ it. 

Tom looked just as surprised as he did for a second before he seemed to figure out something that Harry wasn't privy to. Like, in retrospect, it made sense for a glow to line both Harry and the stick – no, _wand_, he somehow realised – and that it was all coming together. _Magic_ took hold of Harry's core, like a star blooming into life within him. 

"The wand chooses the wizard," Tom said, although it sounded more like a recital. He placed his hands over Harry's own and adjusted his grip so that it was more towards the base of the wand rather than the tip. 

"I can't be a wizard," Harry breathed and not even the soothing cold where their hands met could distract him from the revelation. 

"But you are," Tom grinned and this time his lips pulled back to show his perfect white teeth. He actually had a small mole just above his upper lip, barely visible from afar, but now that they were this close he could see it. That was what made it click in his head that so many personal space boundaries were being broken by a man he'd met yestercycle. He stepped back abruptly and tried to leave the wand with Tom but he pushed it back into his grip. 

Seemingly unaffected, Tom steamrolled over Harry's reservations about magic and carried on. "Something simple first, the wand lighting charm..."

Somehow, the rest of their time flew by as Tom taught him 'spells', leaving no room for protest to the point that Harry found it easier to just go along with it. Magic came to him easily, a little like learning to ride a hoverboard, although Tom made sure to remind him that these were the most basic of spells. He'd learnt them at eleven. Tom was kind of brilliant in a way that Harry had never encountered before. It was like when he first met Ginny and found out she was insanely talented at flying from the get-go, just like him. Except this time, Tom was all alone in his own league. 

"I'm exhausted," Harry announced before Tom could go onto teaching him yet another spell. 

Tom's eye twitched in annoyance but it was somehow endearing. "I guess it can be quite draining," he allowed and held out his hand for the wand. Reluctantly, Harry parted with it. "I'll walk you through the trials tomorrow, for now, you ought to sleep"

"Sounds good to me," Harry took his place back on the rug he'd first woken up on. It wasn't the most comfortable thing but it was made better thanks to a 'charm' and he'd slept in much worse places. Like an asteroid that was actively tumbling through space. Yeah, that had to be number one on his list of worst places to take a nap. 

Briefly, he wondered where Tom went to sleep but found his consciousness waning too quickly to really care.

* * *

_"I'll be looking after you now, Harry," Grandad Flea said as he crouched to be at the same level as him. Harry did not meet his gaze, instead watching the twinning small black plaques just in front of the newly minted statue. He couldn't read the engravings through his blurry vision but he knew what they said anyway. _

_"Come on, Harry," Flea guided him away but his gaze held until they were mere blobs in the distance, the yellow of the grass crowding them and blending the colours together. He wiped his eyes and they turned around a corner, leaving the cemetery behind. _

_Later, when he climbed The Hill, alone, and looked up into the sky, he could no longer see the star he and Ron had found together. _

* * *

When he woke again he felt different, like something had shifted in his brain. But he didn't feel compelled to think too hard on the subject so he let it drift. 

Tom was already at the crate, face cold and hard but it melded into something nicer when he noticed that Harry was awake. He was pretty in a way that Harry had been slow to notice, pretty in how he looked like an old-time aristocrat. His tailored outfit definitely helped complete the vision. 

"Breakfast is ready, Harry," he said warmly and Harry gladly took his place opposite him at the crate. He was halfway through the porridge when he realised. 

"I don't remember introducing myself" The mortification at being so rude warred with the wrongness that Tom somehow knew his name impossibly. He forgot about both concerns when Tom spoke again, worries melting away to the sound of his voice. 

"Ah, it's a magic thing," Tom explained away with a smile. Made sense. 

Harry hummed in acknowledgement and finished his meal. "So, trials?" He asked conversationally. He found that his desperation to find the enchanted sword had dimmed but it was still there nonetheless. A shift in priorities had taken place, that was all.

"Yes, I'll just deal with this," he flicked his wand and the bowls began their journey back into one of the tunnels. "And grab a few things and then we can get going," he followed the bowls as they bobbed along, disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel. Harry was content to wait. 

He returned shortly after, a small satchel on his back, ready to go. Signalling for him to follow, he started walking down another tunnel and Harry did as he was ordered. It was instantly darker and the air was thinner, clawing down his throat and pulling at his lungs. But Harry trusted that if Tom could survive in these conditions, so could he. They both seemed human and he'd put the field in place before Harry had arrived, surely. 

"_Lumos_," Tom whispered once it was truly dark and held out a hand behind for Harry. Harry took it in his own, smooth and cool and- he forced himself to think of the practicality of hand-holding when traversing dark, twisting tunnels. He wasn't very successful. It didn't help that Tom seemed to be subconsciously smoothing his thumb over Harry's knuckles either. 

He almost walked straight into Tom's back as they came to a halting stop in front of a large ornate door. Tom smiled something sharp over his shoulder before pressing onwards, pulling Harry through the door and pushing him against the wall once inside. He held a finger to his lips, excitement on his breath as he exhaled slowly, mouth inches from Harry's own. Then, he nodded to whatever lay behind them and pointed his now dimmed wand to the left, his other hand pressed to the wall next to Harry's right ear. Close. Tom tutted, barely audible, once he realised Harry was looking at him instead of at whatever he was pointing to. Catching himself, Harry looked to where Tom directed. 

A golden harp was barely visible in the limited light Tom's wand gave off, just enough to show its age and decadent features. A whisper from Tom and a melodic tune plucked itself on the strings, soft and calm. Then Tom fanned out his wand arm until the light shone on the figure of a heaving mass at the back of the room. How Harry hadn't noticed the triad of rumbling breaths, he didn't know – well no, he did know, he'd been distracted. 

The three-headed giant of a dog was peacefully sleeping, drool dribbling from oversized teeth and each puff and huff flapped against the skin hanging from the mouths. A rusted iron manacle encased its neck, tying it to a chain that lead to somewhere in the darkness. He didn't know the exact details of how a living, breathing creature could survive so long, since before Voldemort's intergalactic reign, but he was pretty sure he knew the means: magic. 

Immortality... wasn't that a terrifying, all too sensical thought. Not even stars were eternal. 

Tom stepped back from Harry and he immediately missed the press, the cold that contrasted his ever-constant high temperature. _'Be glad for that, Harry'_ Flea had said one summer when he'd complained. _'Space'll sap the heat right from the marrow of your bones'_.

_'And stars will burn them to a crisp'_ Harry had said and Flea had laughed as though it was a joke. 

"Devil's Snare next," Tom announced quietly, pulling up the latch of a hidden trap door that's composition matched the wooden entrance from before. As Harry approached, Tom held out a hand and gently helped him down until he was hanging from Tom's surprisingly strong hold, a dark nothing below. He should have been scared, but he was fine as long as Tom had him. He'd always be fine as long as Tom had him. Harry may not have known him for very long, but this he knew to be true somehow. Something within him told him so and he believed it. Something else within him said otherwise, but it was small and quiet so he didn't give it any notice. 

For a moment, Harry was suspended in the air with no grip on reality before he plummeted down into the darkness, seeing nothing but the diminishing figure of Tom framed by the trap door and the white light of his wand. But it was over too quickly for him to feel anything more than the beginnings of panic. Thick vines broke his fall, rushing to ensnare his body and strangle him alive.

"Relax," Tom called down, sounding entirely too far away for Harry's liking. But he did as was ordered, body going slack and the plant followed suit. He hit the cold stone floor with a small crash and got up in time to see Tom gracefully land on two feet. 

Wasting no time, Tom advanced onwards towards a second door just as ornate as the one before it. Harry took a second to dust himself off before following. He had a fleeting thought about Ron and how his allergies would fare among all of this ancient dust and stale air, but his mind was almost wiped blank once he caught up with Tom. His presence was all-consuming in the near darkness, the pale light of his wand highlighting the panes of his face and the green rim of his lapels. Due to what must have been a trick of the light – a reflection of Harry's suit's glow perhaps - his eyes appeared to be a deep red rather than the dark brown he'd thought they had been. Although he hadn't really paid them that much attention before, so he couldn't really know. 

As they cracked open the door, inordinate little ticking noises slipped into the atmosphere. Keys were strewn across the stone floor with twitching wings, all manner of shapes and sizes. Opposite to them was another door, presumably locked by one of the no-longer-flying keys. An ornate broom was stood at one end with the strangest metal ornamentation by the bristles. Tom grimaced when he looked at it and muttered something or other about a "barbaric sport" before reaching into his blazer pocket and retrieving a key with limp wings. 

"Old magic," he explained while he strode towards the door and unlocked it, pushing it wide open without any further ado. Harry nodded. 

The next room was, well, a pile of rubble and ash with a hint of checkered flooring in the few places where it could actually be seen beneath the debris. Tom made no mention of it, swiftly moving on, so Harry didn't either. 

"_Nox_," the wand light went out, not that it would have made a difference. 

Fire blazed along the perimeter of the next room, burning hot and roaring. Yet it was controlled, not incredibly well as it did seem to be raring to burst into a frenzy, but there was a measure of restraint at play that prevented them from being burned alive at the centre of the room. The flames lapped at the air either side of them, heat licking the open space with a sense of desperation that Harry hadn't thought that non-living things could exhibit. It was entirely different from the heat he'd felt just the other day (or was it two days now? Or three? Whatever) when he'd been watching solar flares from the safety of the observation deck. 

"It's a common misconception that spells last forever. Runes are the only real forms of magic that don't technically have an expiration date outside of the wear and tear of the material they were engraved upon," Tom explained, his green and black figure framed by orange as he calmly walked towards a pedestal which presented an array of vials. "The spell that kept these flames once uniformly in line is slowly breaking down and has been since before the advent of the Empire and the Lord's expansion of his reign past Earth"

Harry paused at that. Surely... Tom was incredibly intelligent and just well – generally quite perfect, for lack of a better description. Today especially had been a bit of an eye-opener, something had clicked and Harry could finally comprehend the brilliance that was Tom to the fullest extent. Yet, he'd made a mistake. As impossible as that seemed. 

"The Lord has never reigned over Earth – that's where I'm from, I should know," Harry said, even though it made him feel a little sick to dispute him. 

"Yes, he did," Tom said sharply and Harry felt ill. "Due to a, well, let's call it an _oversight_ on the Lord's part – or more specifically, an oversight on the part of a certain follower, the Lord himself rarely makes mistakes after all – the _muggles_ managed to produce a means to escape their home planet and find a new planet remarkably similar to the original to inhabit, far, far away from the Lord's grasp" He ran his long fingers idly over the rims of the vials and sighed. "Though I suppose I can't blame you for your lapse in knowledge, it seems that that little tidbit of information escapes most Earthens as of late"

"...What do you mean?" Harry ventured. Of course, Tom had been right all along, Harry just didn't quite understand why yet. 

"Well," Tom began, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a vial of his own. "When cross-referencing information unearthed from the Earthen prisoners that the Lord has taken between prisoners of this last century and the century before it, the oddest inaccuracies can be found," he uncorked the vial. "Muddled usage of pre empire versus current units of measurement, sudden inexplicable acquirements of knowledge pertaining to the defeat of the Lord and the biggest glaring impossibility of a worldwide confusion surrounding the history of the human race, oh, and there's been a significant rise in humans who have discovered magic and defected to the Lord's side and by significant I mean that the very concept of humans performing magic was considered impossible just a century ago" 

Harry was about to ask about the cause of such strange inaccuracy's but the question left his mind the instant Tom took his hand. His skin was smooth and cold and the perfect complement to Harry's own, just as it had been in the tunnel. As soon as the contact was cut and Tom left him with the vial in his palm instead of his hand, he found he missed it fiercely. 

"After analysing a sample of the original, I produced my own version of the correct potion. All of the potions are far past their use-by dates and there hadn't been enough for as many trials as I've had in my attempts to reach the weapon," he gestured to the vial in Harry's hand. "Take a sip," Harry did. 

For a brief second, the contact was back as Tom took the vial back and sipped it himself, but it was gone as soon as it came. 

Harry wondered as they stepped through the flames if this was what it felt like to step inside a star. Vision ablaze. He'd never know. 

Stepping out was a relief and it took many blinks before the white echo of the flames left his sight. The room that followed was incredibly dark in comparison even though it was fairly well lit. 

A mirror stood tall and proud at the end of the room, lined in faded gold and in need of a good dust just like everything else past the very first door. _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_

But among the grime and dust, he could see that it was no ordinary mirror. For it was not only Tom and Harry reflected upon its surface, but some other figures as well. He walked, although it was closer to a jog, towards the mirror and began to wipe away at the glass. But then a light flashed and the glass was crystalline. He looked behind him and found Tom stood close, pocketing his wand after presumably spelling away the dirt. 

"I show not your face but your true heart's desire," Harry mumbled and knew instinctively what he was looking at. Yet it was wrong. 

Tom was there, although not as a reflection. He was to the left with a hand upon Harry's reflected shoulder, body language tense and rigid as he faced off two figures Harry never thought he'd see again outside of projections. His parents looked young, younger than the fuzzy last memories he had of them, and were to Harry's other side, smiling encouragingly at him between angered glares towards Tom. Their image was faded at the edges, the lines doubling in places as though they were out of focus. In comparison, Tom almost popped from the mirror, vibrant and clear and demanding attention. He held a sword in one hand, gleaming with a red ruby hilt. 

The real Tom was frowning slightly and Harry felt ill again. Had he done something to upset him? 

"What do you see?" Tom asked and Harry was all too eager to answer. 

"You," he said and preened as Tom smiled. "And my parents," the frown was back so Harry hastily continued. "Don't worry – you're much clearer than they are," he guessed that it would please Tom to know and his guess turned out to be correct as Tom nodded in satisfaction. 

But then there was his mother, her hair bright like a red dwarf with green eyes to match his own, filled with an emotion approaching despair. While his father looked ready to take on the Erised Tom, a wand in hand and everything. His mother curled her arms protectively around his side and silently implored him to-

Tom's real hand grasped his shoulder much like the reflection and Harry looked in his direction. "What do you see?" He dared to whisper. 

"You," Tom replied simply and made no effort to elaborate while his mirror counterpart presented the sword. His parents were actively fading. 

"I feel like I've been here before," he murmured and Tom hummed non-committedly. The sword seemed almost palpable. "Like I've done this..." He reached to the side and his hands found purchase on the cold grip of a gleaming silver handle. "... Before"

"You did it, Harry," Tom said, his voice thrumming with excitement. His face was alight with anticipation and his eyes locked onto the sword that was now in Harry's hands rather than within the mirror. The hand that wasn't on his shoulder snaked towards the hilt. "Now give it here," he commanded in a tone that was very nearly harsh.

At first, Harry felt compelled to simply follow along as he had done ever since he'd woken up. But the sight of his parents' ghostly visage gave him pause. Something just as faded as them was screaming mutedly in the back of his mind, as though it were locked up behind thick walls. Its screams were jumbled and mostly incoherent but he knew the gist of what it wanted. It wanted to keep the sword from Tom. 

"Give it," Tom repeated, definitely harsh this time. Again, Harry felt the overwhelming need to comply, to please. But his parents. The screams. 

A rush of air escaped Tom's clenched teeth as he seethed for a moment, very clearly angry and even more dangerous. But then he sighed and the lines of anger dropped from his face, receding into a soft smile that distracted from the fury in his eyes. He moved his hand from the shoulder to Harry's cheek and caressed him, thumb gliding over tears.

He hadn't realised he'd been crying. He melted into the action, leaning into the comfort. But the feeling was wrong just as much as it was right and the screaming knew that there was something about Tom that Harry had once known and forgotten. Something crucial. 

Tom pulled him to his chest, cradling him with one hand while the other gently pried the sword from his grasp. He couldn't see his parents pounding against the glass as they finally disappeared, or how Erised Tom's smile had become more than a little maniacal and how his eyes all but glowed red. Instead, he was enveloped by the comfort that was Tom and a feeling of contentment he'd only ever before found sat on The Hill while stargazing.

"That was possibly the most degrading thing I've ever had to do in order to accomplish my goals," Tom sneered and the once comfortingly cool temperature of his body suddenly became frighteningly chilly and had Harry jumping back in time with Tom's push. He flung Harry from him in disgust and he landed squarely on the floor with a perfect view of the horror taking place before him. 

Porcelain skin melted away to reveal an inhuman white film stretched grotesquely across a skeletal figure that was rapidly losing the healthy mass of Tom's body. His fingernails grew long and sharp to match his teeth while his nose flattened until his nostrils became snake-like slits much like his pupils. He took his wand from the now baggy blazer's pocket and flicked it, no incantation needed. The museum get up transformed into flowing black silk that was so dark it seemed to absorb the colour of its surroundings just like a black hole. Gone was Tom and here was the Wraith. 

Realisation dawned upon Harry like a sheet of ice freezing over his form. The hazy romanticism of Tom was stripped from his mind as whatever magic he had used on him became void along with his human appearance. He stared in open-mouthed shock before his emergency survival training kicked in and his stunner was activated in reflex. 

A flick of the wand and the stunner broke, falling apart like it was in rapid decay. So did the gun. The wraith laughed. 

"Do you know who I am, Potter?" He asked mockingly, his voice breathy and so far from natural. "Do you know who _you_ are, Potter?"

No, he didn't. But there was something within him that did, the same something that came alive when he first touched that wand. It was screaming louder than ever before, like a caged animal tearing at the bars, begging to be set free.

"Harry. James. Potter." The wraith spat out each word. "Come to die at the hands of Lord Voldemort once more"

Yes, except no, he knew. He'd not really died. But what was enough to fool the dark Lord was enough to fool the staff at Hogwarts. So, of course, they had followed through with their last-ditch effort plans. The thing, the person, the version of himself in the back of his mind knew this and desperately pushed for Harry to know this too. 

"It is quite fitting that at least a piece of Hogwarts managed to survive when I destroyed our dear planet if only to serve as your final resting place, just as before"

Harry hadn't learnt magic as he had before and even then he didn't have his wand. He wouldn't need it though, the other him assured, for some magic didn't come from wands and spells and incantations. He knew this as well as he knew the shape of the scar upon his forehead that he no longer sported. 

"I do wish poor Albus had died just a little later, so then he could witness the fate of his last hope in defeating me"

His mother had cast something great and old and born out of love when she died the first time. Harry couldn't do that, there was nothing inside the room that he truly loved without coercion and too many people to cast his protection for outside of it. _It doesn't have to be love_, the voice said, _just something pure and powerful, I think_.

"But alas, there is nothing to be done about that..."

But in bright firey death, stars burn so that we can see them. And with no signal, no way of telling the world, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Flea and everyone else that the key to defeating Lord Voldemort was just a metre from where he lay and with said Lord in the process of coveting it and ensuring that no one got their hands on the means to destroy him in the future... _well, there is only one thing we can do._

"No words? You never stopped talking last time, until you were dead and cold"

For magic is energy, something which he hadn't known the first time around. It's bundled and bound tightly within, finding release in witchcraft and wizardry, something he knew when considering both lives. When his mother died, she channelled that raw unfiltered explosion of energy into one last bit of magic guided by pure will with one streamline intention: _Protect_. 

"Prepare to die, Harry Potter"

Stars die so that we can see them. With the bright white light of a supernova curled around a sword, Harry would show them the weapon to defeat Lord Voldemort. _Properly, this time._

_"Avada Kedavera"_

Stars are not eternal, but immortality had never really been Harry's thing anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried romance. It wasn't working. I went for strategic use of love potion for personal gain instead. So there it is!
> 
> Originally, I was gonna change the ending because I didn't like it, but it settled. So yeah. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you think. You can find my [tumblr](https://colerate.tumblr.com) dedicated to my fic updates and writing progress there if you wanna check out what else I'm working on that hasn't been posted yet.


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